CHAPTER 389: TOWER CHALLENGE 2

The third level plunged him into near-complete darkness. Only the floor panels provided any illumination, glowing softly when he stepped on them. Above him, a holographic grid flickered intermittently, showing a ten-by-ten matrix of squares that pulsed between light and dark.

The wall inscription was barely visible in the dim light:

||Only liars move backward. Truth presses forward||

Lucas took a tentative step forward onto the first glowing panel. It remained lit beneath his feet, but when he looked back, the previous panel had gone dark.

’So I can’t retrace my steps. I have to find the correct path forward, and if I make a mistake...’

He studied the holographic grid above, trying to correlate it with the floor panels. The grid showed a path of light squares that seemed to indicate safe passage, but when he stepped onto the corresponding floor panel, he received a sharp electric shock and found himself back at the starting position.

’The display is lying. The inscription said "only liars move backward"—maybe it’s telling me that the display itself is the liar?’

Lucas looked around the chamber more carefully, searching for alternative visual cues. The walls were polished metal, creating subtle reflections of the holographic display. But the reflections didn’t match the display exactly—they showed a different pattern of light and dark squares.

’What if the truth is in the reflection, not in the direct display?’

He stepped onto a floor panel that corresponded to a light square in the reflection rather than the main display. This time, there was no shock, and the panel remained steadily lit.

’That’s it. The main display lies, but the reflection shows the true path.’

But following the reflection was incredibly difficult in the dim lighting. Lucas had to angle himself to see the reflected pattern while simultaneously watching where he was stepping. Several times he nearly chose the wrong panel, catching himself only when he glimpsed the reflection from a different angle.

Halfway across the chamber, he realized there was another complication. Some sections of the reflection were obscured by the angle of the walls, making it impossible to see the true path ahead.

’I need better lighting, but there are no controls in here. Unless...’

Lucas allowed small amounts of lightning to dance between his fingers, creating just enough light to illuminate the polished walls more clearly. The reflection became easier to read, and he was able to navigate the remaining path without error.

When he reached the far side of the chamber, the walls suddenly blazed with light, and the lift platform rose from the floor.

’Three down. Getting more complex, but I’m starting to understand the underlying logic. Each challenge tests a different type of reasoning, but they all reward careful observation over quick assumptions.’

The fourth level was filled with sound and light. Six musical pads were arranged in a semicircle before a sealed door, each one glowing with a different color and emitting a distinct tone when pressed. The walls pulsed with rhythmic patterns of light that seemed to follow some kind of musical timing.

The inscription read:

||Strike the harmony, and the silence shall reward you. Let error echo forever.||

Lucas pressed one of the pads experimentally and was rewarded with a pure, sustained tone. When he pressed it again, the tone was identical. But when he pressed a second pad while the first was still resonating, the result was a harsh discord that made him wince.

’So this is about finding the right sequence, not just the right notes. The wall lights are providing timing information, but what’s the underlying pattern?’

He watched the light patterns carefully, trying to identify the rhythm. The pulses came in groups—first one flash, then another single flash, then two flashes close together, then three, then five...

’Wait, I’ve seen this before,’ Lucas thought, his mind racing back to childhood mathematics lessons. ’One, one, two, three, five... Each number is the sum of the two before it. One plus one equals two, one plus two equals three, two plus three equals five. It’s like a mathematical spiral that builds on itself—the Fibonacci sequence.’

He counted out the pattern on his fingers to make sure. ’One... one... two... three... five... eight would be next if the pattern continued. It’s everywhere in nature—flower petals, seashells, even the way branches grow on trees. The Sterlings would definitely use something this elegant for their puzzle.’

The realization felt like watching dominoes fall in perfect order. Each pulse wasn’t random—it was part of a mathematical harmony that had been governing growth and beauty for millennia. ’The timing follows Fibonacci intervals, like a heartbeat that gets more complex with each beat.’

But that was only part of the puzzle. Lucas still needed to figure out which tones to play and in what order. He studied the wall patterns more carefully, noting that different sections pulsed with different intensities.

’Maybe the intensity corresponds to which pad to press? Brightest pulse for pad one, second brightest for pad two, and so on?’

He began mapping the pattern, watching several complete cycles to make sure he understood the timing and intensity relationships. The sequence appeared to be: pad three, pad one, pad five, pad two, pad six, pad four.

But when he tried to play it, following the Fibonacci timing, the result was another harsh discord.

’I’m missing something. The timing is right, but the tones aren’t. What if it’s not about which pad to press, but about the relationships between the tones?’

Lucas experimented with different combinations, trying to identify which notes created harmony and which created discord. Gradually, he realized that the pads were tuned to create specific chord progressions when played in the right sequence.

’It’s not just about following the light pattern—it’s about understanding music theory. The Fibonacci sequence gives me the timing, like a mathematical metronome, but I need to layer musical harmony on top of it. The sequence has to create a harmonious progression, not just match the visual cues.’

He worked through different combinations, using the wall patterns as a guide but filtering them through his understanding of musical harmony. When he finally played the correct sequence—a ascending progression that resolved into a perfect fifth, each note spaced according to the Fibonacci intervals—the harsh echo that had been building with each wrong attempt suddenly ceased, replaced by profound silence.

The door slid open, revealing the lift to the final level.

’One more challenge. But I’m running out of time, and this one is likely to be the most difficult.’

The fifth level was a gallery lined with hundreds of portraits. Men and women in formal dress, each painting labeled with names and dates spanning centuries. The styles varied from classical oils to more modern digital representations, but all shared the same formal, dignified quality of official state portraits.

The inscription was simple:

||History remembers what blood forgets. Find the liar.||

Lucas walked slowly along the walls, studying the faces and nameplates. They appeared to be rulers and dignitaries from Beta and allied systems, representing generations of political leadership.

’One of these doesn’t belong. But how do I identify which one without detailed knowledge of Beta’s political history?’

He tried to think back to his childhood education, to the diplomatic protocols he’d studied before leaving for Earth. The Sterling family had been involved in Beta politics for centuries, often serving as advisors and mediators between other families.

’Wait—Lyra mentioned something earlier about foreign investors and off-world diplomats. What if the fake portrait represents someone who was never actually part of Beta’s political structure?’

Lucas examined the portraits more carefully, looking for anachronisms or inconsistencies. Most showed the formal dress and ceremonial regalia appropriate to their supposed time periods, but one portrait near the far end of the gallery seemed slightly off.

The figure was dressed in the style of Beta’s early colonial period, but the technology visible in the background—communication devices and architectural elements—belonged to a much later era.

’That’s it. This person couldn’t have lived in the time period the portrait suggests, because the technology didn’t exist yet.’

But when Lucas approached the portrait to examine it more closely, he realized there was another layer to the puzzle. A small panel beneath the painting required biometric verification—specifically, a palm print powered by a precise application of electrical current.

’They want me to use my lightning, but with surgical precision. Too much power and I’ll fry the electronics, too little and it won’t register.’

Lucas placed his palm on the scanner and allowed the smallest possible amount of lightning to flow through his hand. The panel flickered once, twice, then displayed a green confirmation signal.

The portrait slid aside, revealing a hidden passage that led to the central chamber of the tower.

As Lucas stepped into the final room, a chronometer on the wall showed fifty-eight minutes, forty-seven seconds. He’d completed the Tower Protocol with less than two minutes to spare.

The chamber around him was circular and spacious, with viewing screens showing all five levels of the tower he’d just completed. In the center stood a simple pedestal with a single control panel.

Lucas placed his hand on the activation switch, and the screens around him flashed with congratulatory messages in multiple languages. But more importantly, he heard the sound of doors unsealing throughout the complex.

He’d won.

When the main lift carried him back to the ground level, Princess Evangeline was waiting with an expression of genuine surprise.

"Impressive," she said, and for the first time, her tone carried actual respect rather than condescension. "You’re the first person to complete the Tower Protocol."

Lucas was breathing heavily, his formal robes damp with perspiration and small sparks still dancing around his fingertips from the exertion. "Does this mean Lyra is free to go?"

"Miss Davids was never actually in danger," Evangeline admitted with a slight smile. "But yes, you’ve earned full access to our archives, as promised. And perhaps more importantly, you’ve proven that House Grey produces more than just talented warriors."

She gestured toward a nearby door. "The information you seek is through there. Take all the time you need—and Prince Lucas?"

"Yes?"

"Your performance today will be very valuable for improving the Tower Protocol. We may need to add a sixth level."

Lucas managed a tired grin. "I’d rather not be the test subject for that one."

As he walked toward the archives, Lucas couldn’t help but think that Evangeline had gotten more than she’d bargained for. She’d designed the Tower Protocol to be impossible, a demonstration of Sterling intellectual superiority.

Instead, she’d proven that when properly motivated, a Grey could think just as clearly as any Sterling.

And that, Lucas reflected, might be the most dangerous information she’d uncovered today.